Much
crackling and splitting were going on, and fissures leaping into life
and multiplying in all directions.
"The under-tow ice has jammed below among the islands," Jacob Welse
explained. "That's what caused the rise. Then, again, it has jammed
at the mouth of the Stewart and is backing up. When that breaks
through, it will go down underneath and stick on the lower jam."
"And then? and then?" The baron exulted.
"La Bijou will swim again."
As the light grew stronger, they searched for the man across the river.
He had not moved, but in response to their rifle-shots waved feebly.
"Nothing for it till the river breaks, baron, and then a dash with La
Bijou. St. Vincent, you had better bring your blankets up and sleep
here to-night. We'll need three paddles, and I think we can get
McPherson."
"No need," the correspondent hastened to reply. "The back-channel is
like adamant, and I'll be up by daybreak."
"But I? Why not?" Baron Courbertin demanded. Frona laughed.
"Remember, we haven't given you your first lessons yet."
"And there'll hardly be time to-morrow," Jacob Welse added. "When she
goes, she goes with a rush. St. Vincent, McPherson, and I will have to
make the crew, I'm afraid. Sorry, baron. Stay with us another year
and you'll be fit."
But Baron Courbertin was inconsolable, and sulked for a full half-hour.
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